2004-08-17 - 12:14 a.m.
Whenever I cry I feel like I am 14 again- feeling stupid and out of control, crying over thigns I can't control and can't let go of, crying because I can't even articulate what hurts or how to make it stop hurting. I spent most of today dripping emo. I felt grouchy about going back to school and grouchy about the fact that I only have one year left, overwhelemed with my own diminutive stature against the big city of New York. For me it always seems to be about control in some way or another and no matter how many times I critque it (thinking about New England, upper middle class, white feminity and ideals of behavoir) it is still hard for me to let go of.
I am dreading the Republican National Convention that is going to descend on New York next week. I am already getting ready to barf at the ways that they will exploit September 11th while doing nothing for New York or New Yorkers (because most New Yorkers are poor and working class people of color, many of them immigrants, not people that Bush's administration has been particularly kind to, not that any administration has, for that matter). I am thinking up all kinds of little, creative acts of resistance for the RNC- t-shirts, stickers, posters, signs, pamphlets, but all of these seem so weak in the face of power. I feel that bitter rage at our own powerlessness I felt so much when the the war on Iraq "offically started" last spring returing.
On a more positive note last night I, with the help of my friends and family, put on Barncore, an almost annual show that celebrates DIY music, creation and community, that takes place in my parents barn. We had the first one in 1999. It started out as a dance party, but soon an acoustic guitar was being passed around and everyone was playing songs. It was a truly magic occaison and one we have tried to recapture each year. Something about playing among haybales to good friends always seems to produce good results, no matter how unpracticed one might be (as was the case for me last night). It was so amazing to see people I have known for about 5 years perform and play. My neice and nephew (12 and 10, respectively) loved Dave's readings about being a substitute educational assisstant, my sister was impressed at the punk rock drumming Ryan did in the Company Anthem, it felt amazing to me to play in a "band" with Jon again, since we were in each other's first bands and started playing together in 1998, I laughed realizing Lauren's "Tough Girl Performance Project" slide show was almost 4 years old and that it is still kick ass, and it was exciting that friends came together from Maine, New York and Portland, Or to spend an evening eating vegan lasagna in the middle of Pownal, Maine. It was Keight's birthday and we presented her with a cake and flowers at the end of the night and I thought about how lucky I feel to have known her for all these years while we both lived on the east coast (more or less, in my case) and how I will msis her when she moves to Portland, OR at the end of this month. I am excited for her to make a life out there and know that someone like her will always be in my heart.
Barncore reminds me that we can struggle together to make what we need out of what we have. It reminded me that we can seek out alternative spaces and make use of them, wherever we find them. It reminded me to always appreciate this community of family and friends I have and to never take it for granted. And that is what gives me hope and that is what I didn't have at 14 and needed and that is what will keep me getting out of bed in the morning and making little art projects and learning all I can and teaching people how to make things and throwing all the rage I can back at the system that produces it.
